


mungkas carita

by pindanglicious



Series: EngSpaWeek2018 [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Denial, M/M, aduh, apa ya mm, pseudo-historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 23:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pindanglicious/pseuds/pindanglicious
Summary: "is it really a brotherly love you harbour for him?" ―and arthur could never answer that. [ happy engspa day! ]





	mungkas carita

**Author's Note:**

> **disclaimer:** hetalia belongs to himaruya and im here sailing my ship, HAPPY ENGSPA DAY 2018 ;_;

# mungkas carita

Out of most things he despised in this world, Arthur had always hated war. A battle; bloody battle that robbed every soul from the deserved well, peaceful life; a havoc that destroyed the entire ground, leaving no trail but bloodstains. He was always quite reluctant going off for the warfare, however he had no choice but to fight.

First thing he framed once he opened his eyes was blurry vision of a little crowd―about three people―surrounded him, a crook of relieved smile etched on their muddy face.

" _Arthur's wakin' up! He opens his eyes!"_ one of them hailed, Arthur didn't know whom they referred to. Much to his confuse, the voice was quite vague on his ear, probably an impact from his recent injury.

They gave Arthur a time to collect his mind before he recovered and was fully aware.

The young man wandering his gaze around, concluding he had been unconscious for long enough time he couldn't remember. A fire pit flaming fiercely in front of him, breaking the silence atmosphere of the wild forest with that cracking sound of burnt firewood. Arthur then narrowed his eyes, slowly realising there was someone missing among them. One important person; to him and to these people.

He saw a Frenchman, with his knackered face and swollen eyelid, as well as bruised cheek―thing they all commonly got in a war―leant his back against the old tree trunk behind him. His mouth was pale and cracked as if he was keeping his voice all day long. On his lap, rested a head of silver haired German lad who was sleeping exhaustedly.

Arthur held a breath for a moment. His lips trembled as he felt there was something bad happened when he shut his eyes. A bad feeling clung on his chest.

"-'s―where-" he probed atrocious mutters amidst his shrivelled cough that sounded hoarse and roughly painful, everyone was furrowed their brows upon the mumble. "―where's Antonio-" Arthur scarcely finished his words.

Nobody answered him. They avoided his vicious glare out of his sharp, darkened green eyes. Arthur clenched a fist once he felt the exasperation breaking his temper.

"Francis!" he shouted in annoyance, stubborn as he was always be.

Francis hissed, not daring to answer the forceful question yet. _Coward._ He shouted at himself. Just when he barely opened his mouth, a stern voice with full of desperation, interrupted him.

"They caught him alive. There's nothing else we could do. You, Arthur, are fucking useless just we are."

 _Damn Lovino! Have some delicacy!_ The Frenchman grit his teeth, restraining himself for not throwing his punch towards the Italian man.

Arthur froze, his heartbeat was likely stopped pounding; he felt dead for a moment. His upper lip was trembling when he probed further. "And you didn't at least try to get him back? He was injured wasn't he?"

"We tried our best, sir!"

"By letting one of your comrades got captured? Thank you for doing your greatest effort!" he angrily snapped a sarcasm shout, raising his voice, irritating some of his comrades who were still awake.

"We saved you at least, Arthur!"

That one scold came from the Portuguese's mouth, silencing raged Arthur when he lost his self-control. João's face wasn't much different from the others', as well as Arthur's; they were all miserably regretting all happened today.

"... **he** saved **you**. You two had the worst injury among us all ..."

João dropped his head down, he was full of guilt and grief, and Arthur was completely astounded upon hearing that; disappointed to himself, self-loathing.

* * *

_They caught him alive._

_You fucking useless._

_He saved you._

Those words were always echoing in his mind; aching and tormenting. A sharp, paralysing pain spread through his body. Arthur crouched down with his head bowed low between his knees, regretting all his stupidity for being weak, for being effortless, for being wounded when everyone needed him the most, for being saved by Antonio in numerous times.

He cupped his whole face as a gesture of despair and frustration, hissing a low screech amidst the row of his fingers. Once he wished to lie down and cry, his lacrimal gland was all deadly parched like a dry maize field.

Arthur was afraid to death. He was quite afraid that he felt his palm drenched in his own cold sweat, his body shuddered in anxious. He couldn't stop thinking about Antonio on his every heavy pants, ignoring wounds stained almost his whole body.

It was already in the mid of night where everyone on his squad― _Francis Jo_ _ã_ _o Lovino Gilbert and the other three sissy plonkers_ , Arthur counted―supposed to had slept inside their tent, warm and comfort near the fire, had packed their stuffs for the later dawn's journey. Throughout the time his comrades dozed in exhaust, the young English couldn't find it comfortable to rest albeit he was extremely knackered, realising his legs were frequently suffered severe cramps.

Instead of grouping up with the others, Arthur isolated himself in a place where he considered more peaceful to calm his head. It wasn't close to the post but wasn't far either; bounded with dark shrubs, old trees with their trunks against the charcoal sky. Across his position was a river curled near his feet. A slice of mellow euphony amidst the scattered leaves, reflecting the ray of a moonlight, as well as the depiction of a sorrowful, depressed young man's face. Arthur silently watched his own reflection, then bitterly laughed at himself.

" _Captain might've been smuggled underground, or 's already a war prisoner."_

" _He_ _ **was**_ _alive but badly injured._ _ **Was.**_ _We don't know how's he_ _ **now.**_ _"_

" _We couldn't afford any even if there were ransom we shall pay to get him back!"_

_Fuck those cowardice excuses!_

He groaned in agony, ruffling his already messy hair when his mind couldn't stop the haunts of his comrades' utterances in several moments ago. The squad planned to head back to Lisbon at dawn, after they attempted to make Arthur certain that Antonio was already dead, that he had no any chance to live once he fell to enemy's trap, that he died in peace because of his wholehearted sacrifice for Arthur and his other comrades that he considered his own family.

That didn't make Arthur relieved nevertheless. Instead, his anger grew more and he got more rebellious.

Arthur couldn't just let it go. He was always certain that Antonio was still alive.

Thus he clenched his fist, firm and hot; determining something inside of his mind afterwards.

* * *

And there he finally was; had walked far enough from his post without any of his comrades noticing, all prepared with his own needs on his bag; mostly weapons, some of them were spare foods. Sneaked when his mates were still asleep profoundly, he decided to run away and seek for Antonio by himself.

Scampering through the woods with such confidence that nobody would tail him, Arthur unveiled his hood, letting his ruffled hair went wild when a blow of wind struck upon his scalding body. However he was suddenly stopped as someone yanked him, slamming the helpless English boy against a tree on his back.

Arthur screamed. He was slightly frightened when he thought an enemy followed him by any chance since the forest was in barely lit. But the unknown person had a very familiar voice when he spoke;

"Arthur! What do you think you're doing?"

"―bloody Francis!" he hissed in a great shock when someone, no other than Francis with his stupid French accent, found him out.

It was fucking Francis who suddenly appeared between the dark trunks, grabbing his wrist, gripped it tightly before Arthur snarled at him and shoved him away with force and his stubbornness.

"Where are you going? We're heading back to Lisbon this dawn. And you're in the wrong way!"

"You're in my way!"

The younger male, much to his frustration and ego, yelled. His eyes were red as if he was going to cry. Luckily Francis didn't see that, or he would humiliate him with no mercy.

"Still attemptin' on rescuing Antoine? By yourself alone? How many times I have to tell you, Antoine is―"

"He's alive. I can―" Arthur held a breath on his lung. He bit his lower lip before continue stammering; "―sense his presence."

Francis thought Arthur was mad. So did everyone on the group. He was a total crazy; or apparently was drunk of too much ale. Sadly Arthur wasn't joking and was pretty much sober to walk his own legs.

"Why would you go so far for him?" the Frenchman insisted, narrowing his eyes in suspicion for Arthur's unbreakable determination. Because it was hardly impossible for him to seek for his lost, injured squad captain; his precious friend. He was indeed gutted for what happened to Antonio in the previous day, but he couldn't let the same thing happened to Arthur. Antonio was dead, already died by enemy's hand, it was hopeless to try to get him back from the enemy's hand.

Arthur paused. Avoiding Francis' eyes upon him, he lowered his head and looking at the ground where they were standing on. He clenched a fist as he felt tensed up.

"He's like my own ... brother. Better than my real shitty brothers." He silently whispered a grief mumble, reminiscing old memories living inside of him. He could never erase Antonio's presence on his cinematic records. "I may be having no chance to survive. But I need to save him even if it costs my life."

_A brother?_ _Since when?_

Francis frowned, his lips carving a strange mocking smirk. He wasn't expecting that came from Arthur's own mouth. He always antagonised Antonio in every occasion and vice versa on Antonio's side. They always bantered over many ridiculous things; they were barbaric towards each other. That was all Francis could conclude in regards. He was always close with those two and knew a lot how they were, but he never thought Arthur actually valued Antonio more than his own life. Their bond wasn't as shallow as Francis thought.

What did they do when he wasn't around them? That was his next question.

"What makes you sure he's alive?" Francis once again interrogated his English comrade, with more threatening tone. "What if he just barely died when you arrive?"

Arthur was still being stubborn, being just himself.

"I wouldn't know if I didn't try." He emphasised. Though he wasn't really an optimistic person as Gilbert, if it came to his precious friend, he would do anything even the most impossible. "I will bring him back no matter what. Even if it means he would be home without me." He finalised his decision, which made Francis stunned, speechless between his long gasp.

Francis shook his head, then laughed in frustration, pitying his poor little Arthur who couldn't accept the death of his beloved big brother.

"'s it really a brotherly love you harbour for him?"

Arthur wasn't answering him as he disappeared without Francis even noticed. His only concern was Antonio, no one beside him.

The Frenchman vowed himself he would punch that prat to death _**if**_ he came back alive.

**Author's Note:**

>   * HAPPY SPUK DAY FOR Y'ALL! still can't believe i've finally managed to finish writing much english fics. also i want to apologise for my bad english, it's not my native language, though, i will never use this for an excuse to avoid constructive critics. i'm so happy that i'm able to overcome my laziness xDD
>   * got the story idea after rewatched bbc merlin and idk that era was mmmm good to be written (?)
>   * mungkas carita (sundanese): finishing the story
>   * once again thank you very much for reading, happy spuk day!
> 



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